Kilgorman

FUGITIVE BUT NOT VAGABOND.

His Honour was quite right; there was trouble enough out of that night's business. But more for me than for him.

For him, as he was then situated, playing a fast and loose game between the side of order and the side of treason, the fact that his house had been attacked by friends of the latter party stood him in good stead with the former. And if any of his brother magistrates had been inclined to suspect him of half-heartedness before, this outrage might be counted on to confirm his zeal for the right cause.

Under cover of this new security he was able to play even more than before into the hands of the lawless party. His first act was to hush up the affair of the night attack and procure the release of the two prisoners. His next was to abandon me to the tender mercies of those who sought vengeance for the blood of the dead man.

Once as I crossed the lough in a boat on his honour's business a shot across the water, which buried itself in the gunwale, made me look round, and I perceived one of the Rathmullan long-boats, manned by four of the party I had overheard in the inn weeks before, in full chase.

The wind was slack, and escape was almost impossible. Could I only have used my sail I might have led them a pretty dance out into the open. As it was, without arms, one to four, and in a little, broad-beamed tub, I could do nothing but haul down my sail and wait their pleasure.

"Martin was right this time," I heard him who had fired the shot say, as he leisurely reloaded.

I was in doubt whether I was to be made an end of then and there, or allowed the mockery of a trial.

"What's your will?" said I, as they came alongside. "You've no need to scratch the paint of his honour's boat, anyway."

They said nothing, but hauled me bodily into their own craft, and tied me hand and foot.

"Save your breath," said one presently, "till it's wanted."

And I was flung like a sack on the floor of the boat.

"What'll we do with yon?" said another, knocking his oar against the Knockowen boat.

"Capsize her and let her drift," said the leader of the party.

So my old craft, which had carried me so often, and not me only but my little lady whom it seemed I was never to see more, was upset and turned adrift, to carry, for all I knew, the message of my fate to any whom it might concern.

It was almost dark already, and by the direction my captors rowed I concluded I was to be taken, not to Rathmullan, but to a landing-place nearer the lough mouth. They cruised about till it was quite dark, and then put in for a point called Carrahlagh, some miles south of my old home on Fanad. Here my feet were loosed and I was ordered to march with my company inland. The man with the gun walked by my side. The others, who as we went along were joined by some half-score of confederates at various points, who all gave a watchword on joining, talked among themselves eagerly.

Presently we came to a hill--one I knew well--and here the stragglers began to muster in larger numbers, till as we came to the hollow basin below the top I counted nearly fifty. A few of them I recognised as old gossips of my father's, but for the most part they were strangers who seemed to have come from a distance.

About ten of the number carried guns, the rest were all armed with either clubs or sticks, while one or two carried rude pikes.

I noticed that one of my captors, not he who guarded me, was looked up to as the leader of the gathering; and when by common consent a circle was formed, and sentinels posted, one on either side of the hollow, it was he who stepped forward and spoke.

If he was an Irishman, his voice did not betray him. Indeed, he spoke more like an Englishman, with a touch of the foreigner at the tip of his tongue.

The first part of his speech was about matters I little understood-- about some Bill before the Irish Parliament at Dublin, and the efforts of the friends of the people to defeat

There's fighting to be done, if there's only men to do it--fighting with the men who wring the life's blood out of you and your land-- fighting with the toadies who are paid by England to grind you down-- fighting with the blasphemers who rob your priests and your chapels-- fighting with the soldiery who live on you, and tax you, and insult your wives and daughters. It's no child's play is wanted of you. We want no poltroons in the cause. We know the people's friends, and we know their enemies; and it's little enough quarter will be going on the day we reckon accounts. Arrah, boys!" cried he, letting go his foreign air for a moment and dropping into the native, "it's no time for talking at all.

There's some of yez armed already; there's a gun for any mother's son here that will use it for the people, and swear on the book to leave the world with one tyrant less upon it. Come up, boys, and take the oath, and shame to them that hang back."

Instantly there was a forward movement in the audience, as with shouts and cheers they pressed towards the speaker.

He held aloft a book and recited the oath in a loud voice. As far as I remember it bound every one to be a loyal member of the society organised in that district to put down the tyrant and free Ireland from the English yoke. It bound him, without question, to obey any command or perform any service demanded of him in the cause. It pledged him to utter secrecy as to the existence and actions of the society. And it doomed him to the penalty of death for any breach of his vow.

In fours, each with a hand on the book, the company advanced and took the vow, each man's name as he did so being written down and publicly announced. Even the two sentinels were called from their posts and replaced, in order that they might join.

Finally the leader cried,--

"Is that the whole of ye?"

"No," cried my custodian, pus.h.i.+ng me forward with the b.u.t.t-end of his gun. "There's a boy here, plaze your honour, captain, that we took this day. It's him that gave Larry Dugan his death that night we visited Knockowen."

The leader turned me to the moonlight and scrutinised my face sharply.

"I had forgotten him," said he; "he should have been left behind.--That was a bad business at Knockowen."

"'Deed, sir," said I, plucking up a little heart at the mildness of his manner, "I did no more than your honour would have done in my shoes; I defended the women. And as for Larry Dugan, it was a mischance he was..h.i.t."

A hurried consultation took place among the chief of the confederates, during which I was left standing in suspense.

It was against me that I had been present and overheard all this business of the oath. That, it was evident, weighed more against me than the part I had taken in the defence of the Knockowen women. Were they to let me go now, the society would be at the mercy of my tongue.

It would be simpler, as some advised, to put me out of harm's way then and there with an ounce of lead in my head.

Presently the consultation ended.

"Give him the oath," said the leader; and the book was held out to me, while a couple of guns were pointed at my head.

It was an ugly choice, I confess. Little as I understood the nature of the work in hand, I had gathered enough to know that the oath sold me body and soul to men who would stick at nothing to gain their end, and that in taking it I became not only a traitor to the king, but an accomplice of murder and outrage.

Yet what could I do? Young life is sweet, and hope is not to be thrown away like a burned-out match. Besides, I longed to see Tim once more before I died, and--I blushed in the midst of my terror--my little mistress.

"Loose my hands," said I, "and give me the book."

The muzzles of the guns laid their cold touch on my cheeks as the cord was unfastened.

Then in a sort of dream I held the book and began to repeat the words.

I know not how far I had gone, or to what I had pledged myself, when a sudden shout from one of the sentries brought everything to an end.

"Whisht--soldiers!" was the shout.

In a moment the hollow was almost empty. Men scuttled away right and left like sheep at the alarm of the dog. Those who guarded me let me go and raced for the gap. The clerk left paper and pen and lantern on the ground and slunk towards the rocks. I was left standing, book in hand, with but one of the party, and that one the leader, beside me.

"Kiss the book," said he in a menacing tone.

I looked at him. He was not armed, and I was as free a man as he.

Quick as thought I seized the list which the clerk had dropped on the ground.

"Your secret is safe," said I, flouris.h.i.+ng it in his face, "so long as the women at Knockowen are unhurt. But my soul and my hand are my own."

So saying I flung the book and struck him a blow on the breast which sent him reeling back against the rock. And off I went among the bracken, thanking G.o.d for this peril escaped.

As I have often proved many a time since, the road to safety lies often on the side of danger. Most of the fugitives had made for the hills in an opposite direction to that towards which the sentinel had pointed. I went the other way, and hid myself under a broad flat rock near the roadside, guessing that no one would ever look for lurkers there.

And in so doing I was able to discover what the others would have given something to be sure of:--that the sentinel's alarm had been a false one altogether, and that what he took for soldiers was no more than a party of revellers returning from a harvest dance in high good spirits along the road. I even recognised some of the familiar faces I had known at Fanad in the old days, and was sorely tempted to claim acquaintance.

But prudence forbade. As sure as daylight came no effort would be spared to hunt me down. For had I not the secret of this society in my own hands, down to the very list of its members? A word from me could smoke them in their holes like rats in a drain. It was not likely I should be allowed to remain at large; and when caught next time, I might promise myself no such good luck as had befallen me to-night.